


For a Thousand Years More

by Purrsian



Category: Homestuck
Genre: Drabble, F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-07-16
Updated: 2013-07-16
Packaged: 2017-12-20 09:06:31
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Major Character Death
Chapters: 3
Words: 691
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/885483
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Purrsian/pseuds/Purrsian
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>First Ship three-shot drabble that tells of the Signless and the Disciple as the tempo of their lives gets darker and bloodier. [it's really just drabble. Don't expect anything too groundbreaking. Some descriptions of blood and torture is vaguely glossed over in the second chapter.]</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. His Disciple, Her Signless.

**Author's Note:**

> I wrote these all in like forty minutes all together okay  
> also I don't own homestuck and this is originally from my FF account Caciacoon

He is her everything.

She has devoted her life to his teachings, his preachings, and him.

Everything is him.

He is everything.

Some say they love each other, but it goes well beyond that.

They learn from each other, calm each other down, they are everything all at once.

He is hers, they both know this. She would do anything to protect him, she would take her life to save his.

She is his, they both know this. Even her name comes from him. She is The Disciple, A Disciple. But who's Disciple is she?

His Disciple.

Of his teachings, of his word.

But thy are each other's Disciple, in more ways than but one.

She would exile herself, be driven into solitude, become nothing more than a figure in a tragic story, to preserve everything he has taught her.

She does not know.

She does not know that this is reality.

She does not know that this is true.

For now, they simply wait in their cave. Waiting for the revolution, a revolution that all come, and go.

A revolution that will die,

but will not be forgotten.

A revolution that will live,

for a thousand years more.


	2. The walls are painted

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The walls are painted. Painted with blood.

The walls are painted.

Painted with blood.

Painted with the blood of the animals she has hunted, the animals she made suffer.

Suffer like he did.

She paints the walls with his teachings,

of love, of equality.

Some say she has gone insane.

In truth, she is.

But not in the way some might think.

She loves him, even after all they did to him.

They shackled him, they beat him, they tortured him.

They killed him.

She still has nightmares, she wakes up screaming. She saw them kill him.

But there is no one to hold her, for he is gone.

They found his body, his followers, left in the center of their camp.

To say the least, it was tragic.

He was covered.

Covered in the blood the cause of his perpetuation, the cause of His Cause.

They had burned and carved symbols into him.

Symbols resembling a nine and a six, together and joined.

Some decided he could no longer be called the Signless.

They gave him a new name.

The Sufferer.

He was referred to in all the books by this new name.

Except for hers.

In her writings, in blood on the wall, he was always the Signless.

She felt he would not have stood for being called a Sufferer, The Sufferer.

For his suffering was not in vain.

His teachings lived on.

In blood, on the wall.

Written by A Disciple, The Disciple, His Disciple.

And she will wait, she will record.

for the time when hers is up, when all the sand runs out.

And she will join the dream bubble, her mission a success.

And she shall find her Signless,

And they shall be together.

Together, she says, for a thousand years more.


	3. He waits

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Seer of blood will wait, he says, for a thousand years more.

He waits.

He waits, in the the dream bubbles.

He waits for her.

He waits, for her, the Disciple.

His Disciple.

He waits for her, he waits as she perpetuates his teachings.

In blood, on the wall.

How fitting, he has mused.

A war against blood, in blood.

He died for his cause, for theirs.

He died, covered in blood.

He was hopeful at first, that maybe not everything would go so awry.

But in his last and final moments, he was angry.

Angry on a level never recorded.

He was angry at the world, at his blood, at their blood, at everything.

Everything except one thing.

Her.

As his essence ebbed away into space, he thought of her.

He imagined her.

Sitting there, with him, helping him through his pain.

He had cried.

No one had noticed, it mixed with his blood.

But the Signless had cried as he suffered, cried for her.

He would never see her again, he was certain.

Never until she died, and joined him.

And he would wait, yes, he would wait.

The Seer of blood will wait in the dream bubble,

wait for her.

He will wait, he says,

for a Thousand Years More.


End file.
